


Words We Do Not Mean

by DoctorFluff (Nikulka)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Disability, Heavy Angst, Insecurities, M/M, Post-Chapter 13, Rated M for later Chapters, Relationship Problems, borderline stream of consciousness, semi-rantfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikulka/pseuds/DoctorFluff
Summary: A lot has changed after Altissia. Ignis is trying to come to terms with himself and with his lovers, with varying degrees of success.





	Words We Do Not Mean

**Author's Note:**

> So this started off as a sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing that I wrote as a therapy after a very painful weekend when I spent 20+h editing and proofreading an… unfortunate translation of a history paper. I was on the verge of either strangling the translator or leaving passive-aggressive editorial comments, and frankly, I don’t know which one would have been worse. At least now I know way more about tanks than I ever needed and/or wanted to know.  
> Then it got just a little bit out of hand.  
> This has little to do with the story itself, but I wanted to tell you anyways.  
> Mood for the story: [Poets of The Fall - Temple of Thoughts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfVGvY7p1sU)  
> I'm looking for Beta, if somebody is brave enough to deal with this. Enjoy!

Ignis closed his eyes.

In did not make any difference, though, it had not made one for weeks now, not really. On the good days, he was able to discern vague shapes, to tell the spots of bright light from the shadows. On the bad days, it was all darkness.

It was a bad day.

He let out a shaky breath, and that was as much of an emotional display as he allowed himself these days. Of all the people, he had to be the strong one. After all, it was not becoming for the royal advisor to waver, especially when his king was...

He stopped himself right there, trying his best to ignore an image that had flashed before his eyes. No. He could not break down, he could not fail, not when Noctis needed him the most.

Soft footsteps sounded in the room, approaching Ignis from the behind in an almost sheepish manner, if the adjective ‘sheepish’ can be used to describe the click-clack of boots on the metal floor. Perhaps it cannot, thought Ignis, and promptly proceeded to a profound and pointed conclusion that he did not care. For a person who had spent their whole life relying on vision, learning how to live without it was a long and arduous process. Not that he complained… he never did. Even when he wanted to, even when he felt overwhelmed and tired and just wanted to give up, lay down and scream.

There are many misconceptions about people with impaired senses, the bitter thought entered his mind. Losing your eyesight does not automatically improve your hearing or touch.

It just makes you unable to see.

At the very least, he was trying. Trying to give the sounds and textures and smells a new meaning, a mental crutch for what he had lost. Sometimes it helped. Other times, it did not.

 

“Hi.” A warm palm rested between his shoulder blades. “How are you, Iggy?”

Ignis relaxed slightly under the gentle touch and leaned into it, longing for support and comfort, however illusory and temporary it might have been.

“Relatively fine. Thank you, Prompto.”

“As good as it gets, huh?” laughed Prompto, but it was forced and strained. Their present predicament had them all on edge. The perpetual darkness that had the world in its clutches had made it only worse. Or so had Ignis been told, anyway. It did not make that much of a difference to himself.

He turned in the direction from which Prompto’s voice came, and extended a hand, reaching for him. Prompto immediately stepped closer and allowed himself to be pulled down to the couch so that Ignis could bury his nose in the crook of his neck. The blonde planted a light kiss on top of the taller man's head and held him tight.

 

“He will be back,” said Prompto, perhaps more to himself than to Ignis.

“I know,” he replied, and it hurt.

 

Because the worst thing was not the physical pain, not the burning of his scarred skin, not his blindness, not the bruises on his hands and knees from when he tripped or fell down to the ground and was too slow to shield himself from the impact. No. It was because he already knew.

And in all honesty, that was almost more than he could bear.

He did not share the burden of knowledge with his lovers, not then, not now. He wanted to, they deserved to know. But he just couldn't bring himself to do so, to force them to go through their lives, for days or months or years, however long it was going to take, _knowing_ that their happiness would be shattered again, shortly after they were to regain it. It had to be, that was their destiny, their duty, the only way.

It did not make it hurt any less.

He would tell them, eventually, he kept telling himself. Just… Later.

 

“When are we scheduled for a departure?” he asked instead, breaking the prolonging silence just as it was about to become oppressive.

“In two hours. But, Iggy, Gladio is still not sure whether you should…”

“I have to. If anything, I am the one who is more used to the darkness than the two of you,” he replied sharply. He realised that his tone was perhaps a bit too much, though, and he let out a breath, apologetically nuzzling Prompto’s neck with his nose. “I’m sorry, Prompto. We just mustn’t give up now. We have to rescue these people, as many as we can. Noctis cannot come back to a deserted wasteland. We have to work, and hard. For our future. For our King. Don't worry about me. I will be fine.”

Words, words, words, he hated them. They left a foul, bitter taste in his mouth. He used to be so skilled with words, back then, but they were betraying him now, sounding hollow in his ears, empty phrases devoid of meaning.

It was not that they were untrue. The logical part of his mind really meant them. In his heart, however? They felt like lies.

“Hey, don't sweat it, right?” said Prompto, rubbing soothing circles on Ignis’ back. “It's just… You know.”

 

He knew.

Gladio’s temperament was a bit of a problem, to put it mildly.

It was not because he thought Ignis too weak, incapable or useless. Far from it. Blind or not, Ignis pushed onwards as hard as he used too, if not harder, nobody could disagree with that. But it was because Gladio was scared. Ignis could not really blame him, no. He understood all too well that all the outbursts of anger and clipped arguments and words as sharp as his blade were in fact not meant to hurt. He knew that Gladio simply feared losing him, worried that his beloved might get hurt. He knew that it was his way of expressing that he cared, even if not the healthiest one. He knew that he loved him.

But still…

 

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, thought Ignis, as a deep, low voice came from the doorway upstairs.

“Gladio,” smiled Ignis, putting as much warmth into this simple utterance of his name as he could muster. “Ready to set off?”

“Yeah.” The sound of footsteps quickly falling down the staircase, loud and heavy, one, two, three, eight, until finally, he was encased in another pair of arms, large and muscular. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of rain, leather and sweat, and something uniquely Gladio.

 

Rain. His mind wandered back to some other day, how long ago was that? Felt like several lifetimes. Already too grown up to be called kids then, no, young adults, that would be a more accurate term, although looking back it felt as if they were much younger, still so innocent. Oh, they both felt so grown up, eighteen, nineteen, Advisor and the Shield, side by side, fulfilling their duty to the crown.

Duty, Titan’s ass. They knew nothing about the duty yet. They thought they understood their positions so well, so serious and proud, arrogant in their conviction. They couldn’t have known.

Years later, they had learned their lessons, and both paid for them. Both made their own sacrifices. Sacrifices of blood, and much, much more.

Hot, crimson blood, dripping on the gravel beneath his feet, tentative staccato dripping drip drip drip dripdripdrip drop after drop, as red as the other’s eyes. The eyes he fell in love with since the first time he had really gazed into them.

 

It was a day in early spring, he remembered clearly. They were walking out of the gym together, muscles sore, spirits high, talking about one thing or another, nothing important; their Prince’s attitude, perhaps. Most likely.

For the past week, Ignis had been embarrassingly coming to a realisation that perhaps the weird flutter in his stomach whenever Gladio smiled at him was not exactly coincidental. He loved Noctis, of course. Not that he would ever tell him, although what he did not realise was that his pining was painfully obvious for anyone but him. But the way the Shield was looking at him sometimes… he spent perhaps way more time than he would dare to admit doing extensive research on whether it is possible to be in love with two people at the same time. Learning about polyamory somewhat soothed him, although he still felt ridiculous about himself. Ignis Scientia, the royal advisor with a demeanour more regal than the Prince himself, with his eyes as cool as his heart, with his aloofness and devotion to duty and duty only, had been sporting a silly crush not on one, but _two_ people. Great job, Scientia, hope you are proud of yourself, he scolded himself in his mind.

Ignis shivered when a sudden blow of cool wind brushed against his still heated by the training skin. It was soon followed by the drops ( _dripping dripdripdrip no please stop_ ) of rain, and lo and behold, they were both drenched to the bone.

“Ya didn’t bring anything to put on yourself just in case, did you, Iggy?” asked Gladio, pulling on his jacket.

“Yes, well, I might have failed to undertake sufficient preventive measures,” said Ignis, clearly embarrassed. The water that was collecting on his glasses was making it hard to see where he was going, so he took them off with an annoyed sigh. His vision might not have been perfect, but it was better this way.

“Surprising lack of foresight on your part,” Gladio flashed him an amused grin and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Come, I’m gonna take you somewhere warm.”

You are warm, thought Ignis, involuntarily leaning closer to the Shield. He considered it sufficient enough but did not protest when Gladio pulled him into a nearby café.

The quiet hum in the café was soothing, as they sat in front of each other, drinking coffee and engaging in a lighthearted conversation, but Ignis grew increasingly uneasy under Gladio’s scrutinising gaze that seemed way more intense than ever before.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, finally, swallowing hard. “You keep staring.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your glasses, is all,” replied Gladio. “You look good.”

Ignis did not blush. Ignis did not _do_ blushing. At least that was what he kept telling himself. And if he felt the gentle heat rising to his cheeks… well.

As it is often the case with spring rains, it ceased as soon as it started, and the sun emerged shyly from behind the clouds. They left the café and slowly walked through the park, vaguely in the direction of Ignis’ flat.

“Hey, Iggy,” said Gladio as suddenly as absentmindedly. “Can I do something stupid?” he turned his head to look at Ignis, and his gaze briefly flicked to the other man’s lips. “Like, really stupid?”

“What do you mea-” he was cut off by a pair of arms suddenly pulling him closer and a mouth capturing his.

 

_Under the spreading Leiden tree_

_I kissed you and you kissed me_

_Oh, how happy we will be_

_Under the spreading Leiden tree._

 

Then they were talking and kissing some more and they made their way into Ignis’ flat and Ignis was happy but then he was breaking down and he sobbed and he did not want to hurt Gladio he loved him but he also loved Noctis and he was sorry and...

“Shh… ‘s okay, Iggy. I’ve got you,” whispered Gladio, holding him tight. “We’ll work something out. Shh. I’m here. It’s okay.”

 

Ignis blinked, out of the pure habit rather than a real necessity, as his mind returned to the present. That was the man he fell for, he concluded with a sudden surge of determination. Gladio was just… Gladio. No matter how rough the surface, his heart was still beating with the same calming, reassuring strength. It did not change. It would not change.

He turned to catch Gladio’s chapped lips in a long, slow kiss and ran a hand through his hair. The damp strands clung to his fingers and tangled around them as he moved the hand to finally place it on the back of Gladio’s neck.

 “You know you’re not gonna get away from this conversation just by kissing me?” murmured Gladio after breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Ignis’.

 “Well, it never hurts to try, does it?”

 “Smartass.”

 “This may be one of the qualities for which you love me.” He spoke with confidence, surely. But the new wave of worries pooling in his chest… Maybe it was something in his lover’s tone, maybe that edge to the laconic replies… or maybe he was just overthinking again. He had no reason to doubt Gladio’s love, and yet… Too many arguments, too many words spoken in anger. Repeat a lie a thousand times and it becomes the truth? Perhaps. He feared that maybe one day, that vicious circle of insults and apologies and ‘I didn’t mean to’s and ‘I love you’s will turn into ‘I absolutely meant to’.

Silly. But...

 

Words. Ignis hated them so, so much.

 Gladio mercifully did not resolve to them in reply, and simply planted a brief kiss on top of Ignis’ head and shifted his attention to Prompto.

 “Hey, babe,” said Prompto, and Ignis felt how one of Prompto’s hands left his back in order to catch Gladio’s.

“C’m here, blondie,” was the reply, and Ignis felt safe and warm between his two lovers, exchanging kisses, but never forgetting to hold him close, to remind him that they are there for him.

 

 “So, let’s do a recap,” said Prompto finally, after a moment of companionable silence.  
  
“We drive to Old Lestallum first. We slay the daemons there, wait for the group of hunters to join us and evacuate the people. Hunters will escort the convoy, and we take down any danger and rescue whomever we find on the way. Then we meet up with Dave in Lestallum, after he and the hunters from the outpost are done with the evacuation of the area around Vesperpool, and we’ll see what’s next,” said Gladio. “Iggy, I have to say this. You are not in a condition to fight. Just… stay here with Iris, okay? Please.”

“Leave him alone, Gladio,” interrupted Prompto, and Ignis could hear the slight notes of annoyance in his voice. “Iggy can hold his own. Just deal with it already, alright?”

 He let the conversation flow over him, carrying on about him, yet without him. He had noticed that, of course, it was becoming more and more common. Since he had lost his vision, people tended to talk about him as if he was not in the room. As if he suddenly lost the capability to decide for himself, to think, to reply. To feel. Not that he was commonly considered capable of that one before, though. His cool facade had definitely been making some impression, and he was comfortable with that, mostly.

But to hear his lovers argue about him as such…

He knew they did not mean to.

Another point on the ever-growing list of ‘but it hurt’.

He was in pain a lot these days.

 

“That’s quite enough,” he said, getting up, untangling from their arms. “We’ve got no time to lose.”

Maybe… he could just move on. Forget the pain and think of the future.

One day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been reading Ulysses for my literature seminar lately and I’m afraid it shows. Come scream at me about FFXV on tumblr [@lovely-yet-loveless](https://lovely-yet-loveless.tumblr.com/) !  
> If you want me to tag something that I forgot about, just let me know and I'll do so :)


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